


your personal nurse

by stundouble



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Fluff and Smut, Hair-pulling, Injury, Light Angst, M/M, Masturbation, One Shot, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pain kink if u squint, Riding, Rough Oral Sex, Slight Dacryphilia, Subspace, Top Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Wound treating, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:08:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29875431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stundouble/pseuds/stundouble
Summary: Dream is infamous for collecting scars like Pokémon cards. The SMP is a dangerous place, after all. It’s understandable. George on the other hand, is no stranger to being the recipient of a battered Dream after his close calls with a mob or fellow SMP member. This time is a little different, though.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 309





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! this is my first fic period, n i rlly jumped in with the spicy ;] feedback is appreciated, enjoy!  
> 

George lazed around the newly refurbished Community House- courtesy of Puffy- with a dull look on his face and a dandelion in his hands. His back rested against one of the brick walls, plucking the tiny petals individually and letting them twirl to the floor.

The high midday sun casted a warm glow through the windows, stretching to bathe the tip of George’s shoe in a hazy yellow light. He let out a sigh, closing his eyes and releasing his hold on the dandelion. The stem left a sticky residue on his fingertips that he mulled over for a few moments before pushing away from the wall.

George exited the building, peering up at the blackstone steps as he crouched down to wash his hands in the calm lake surrounding the Community House. He glanced down to watch the cascade of ripples flee his hands and ebb away.

A distorted shout snapped George’s attention back to the nether portal perched atop the blackstone-paved hill.

“What the…” he muttered, squinting against the sun to grasp at the source of the noise.

A moment later a more drawn out yell echoed out of the portal, crisper on the ears than the last. Whoever was on the other side was getting closer.

George stood, patting his hands dry on his jeans. His fingers hovered apprehensively over the hilt hanging at his side.

A figure emerged from the portal, shrouded in purple before they stumbled forward. The purple became green, and George immediately recognized the figure as Dream. His hand eased off his sword.

At a closer glance, Dream’s green was plagued with red.

“Hey- George, George!” the familiar voice called, a slight rasp in his throat like he’d been inhaling something.

Dream made his way down the blackstone steps as quickly as possible without keeling forward, clutching his oddly unarmored stomach. George hastened to meet him at the bottom of the stairs as his heartbeat picked up.

“What happened? You’re not usually this beat up. Where’s your chestplate?” George barraged Dream with questions as he instinctively snaked his arm around his friend’s waist to support him.

“I was collecting blaze rods for a deal with Punz,” his grimace made him pause, “and a damn wither skeleton jumped me. I didn’t even realize my chestplate was broken.”

George pulled Dream’s arm over his shoulders, and he assisted him to the Community House.

The center spiral staircase was narrow, forcing the two close together to make it up. Dream’s free hand gripped the support beam as they ascended to the second level of the building.

The Community House was originally a place for people to stay and recuperate. That purpose had gotten lost in Captain Puffy’s design, so George had taken it upon himself to add a few beds and supplies to the top level. His usually aloof attitude seemed to contradict such a caring gesture, but he would never admit that the only reason he had done it was for Dream.

“Right, here we go,” George muttered, easing Dream down onto the bed.

Dream mumbled a quick thank you as he let the back of his head touch the sheets, legs hanging off the side of the bed. He didn’t even bother to lay correctly, more focused on stymying the blood loss from his abdomen. George detached his sword from his side and threw it on an open bed.

“Can I look?” the brunet asked, eyeing the red stain under Dream’s hand.

Dream gave no verbal confirmation, simply lifting his gloved hand to let George in. He quickly sat next to Dream, gingerly peeling the shredded hoodie away from his skin. Both of them simultaneously winced when the fabric momentarily stuck to the wound.

The exposure caused new blood to prick the surface, welling up from the gash under Dream’s ribs. It wasn’t the worst George had seen, not awfully deep either.

He worked quickly, rising and kneeling before the chest at the foot of the bed to rummage through the meticulously organized medical supplies. He clutched a few standard first aid items and returned to Dream’s side.

“You really need to be more careful,” he tutted, “you’re actually gonna get killed. I can’t put a bandaid on that.”

He didn’t mean any of it. He knew Dream was too stubborn- too self-assured to actively avoid danger, and he knew he was okay with that. George found himself excited by the idea of sweet, short moments of vulnerability. Just a taste of Dream with his guard down.

The taller man tensed at the cold alcohol wipe against his skin, sighing his response, “still have all three lives, don’t need to worry yet.”

George furrowed his brows, moving on swiftly. “You’ll have to sit up so I can wrap it,” he instructed.

Dream pushed himself up with one hand, the other holding his hoodie. A grimace was plastered plainly across his face.

“I can feel another one on my shoulder,” the blond commented, pulling his top over his head before George could object. The green hoodie found itself on the floor.

George’s eyes widened for a split second before he forced an unbothered expression back on his features. He couldn’t do anything about the heat blooming in his cheeks, unfortunately. The way Dream’s chest heaved with each labored breath; it threatened to awaken something long dormant within him.

“I’ll deal with that one in a second,” George pushed out quietly, avoiding Dream’s pinning gaze by dressing his wound with gauze and bandages. His stomach fluttered as the blond let out a bated breath and a quiet _fuck_.

George pulled the roll of bandage around Dream’s waist, letting his fingertips brush warm, firm muscle. Dream had a hard time sitting still: he was always traversing the SMP, always flipping his axe in his grasp. Of course he’d be shredded.

Sparks shot up George’s fingers whenever they met skin. He tied off the bandage and shifted to attend to Dream’s shoulder without a glance up. George could feel a set of emerald eyes burning holes through his skull as he worked.

He passed a thumb over the rough skin. It was just a scrape, barely bleeding. George’s eyes skipped between the white scars patterning Dream’s skin like tiger stripes.

“Oh my god, I didn’t even bring the blaze rods back,” Dream broke the silence with an exasperated groan, the tendons in his neck shifting as he threw his head back.

“Just get Sapnap to pick them up. He likes the nether anyways,” George offered, gaze flicking up momentarily, “there, you’re all patched up.”

Dream sighed, rolling his shoulders. George had to act like he wasn’t looking as he gathered his supplies.

“Thanks, George. I really appreciate it,” he gave the brunet a quick smile, clapping him on the back roughly.

“Yeah- of course,” he replied, rising and stashing the first aid gear in the chest.

“I probably shouldn’t bathe for a while, huh? Getting the bandages wet seems like a bad thing.” Dream looked up at George, sliding off his fingerless gloves to reveal dirty palms that complemented his fingers caked with ash. George cringed.

“No, Dream. You definitely need to clean up. Maybe use a damp rag. Or I could do it, if you want,” George spilled out, “so you wouldn’t have to move much- it probably hurts to right now,” he clarified quickly, cursing himself out in his head for being so forward.

To George’s delight, Dream agreed, “sure. I probably can’t get my back without help.”

The shorter man nodded eagerly, pulling a bowl and a washcloth out of the chest. He excused himself to grab water from the lake, careful not to spill on his way back up the stairs.

George set the bowl on the nightstand, dipping the rag in and wringing it out.

“Back first?” Dream asked, dipping a few fingers into the bowl to clean off his hands.

George shrugged. “Sure.”

The two positioned themselves on the bed so Dream was facing the wall, one leg still off the bed. George sat behind him. He folded the rag before pressing it against a smear of sweat and dirt.

Dream reflexively reacted to the cold; goosebumps making fine golden hairs stand up, muscles rippling as they tensed. But he kept quiet, relaxing back into George’s touch with a sigh. He loved the way Dream’s breath hitched.

It wasn’t long before Dream’s back was clean, but the brunet was hesitant to move on. He rubbed over the same spots, letting a slim finger or two slip off the rag and touch scarred skin. Dream radiated more warmth than the afternoon sun over their heads, and George felt intoxicated by it.

He pulled a thumb over a long scar across Dream’s shoulder blade, his tan skin pressing warm kisses onto George’s fingertips.

“Do you remember how you got any of these scars?” The shorter man murmured.

Dream shifted slightly as he responded, “no, not really. I wish I did though, I think that’d be cool,” he gave a short laugh.

George pulled himself out of his lull reluctantly, straightening up.

“Alright. Your back is done,” he announced, scooting back as Dream turned to face him.

It was much harder to meet the blond’s gaze than he had expected. He simply began working again, mesmerized by the rise and fall of Dream’s chest under his hand.

George hesitated to move the rag up the taller man’s neck. It was Dream’s expectant air that made him press on, tracing his jawline and cheekbones. The brunet reached with his other hand to push Dream’s flaxen locks out of his face. He let his hand rest there, carded through soft hair as he cleaned his forehead.

Dream seemed to melt into George’s touch, lingering on shut eyes when he blinked. George took those moments to study the blond’s face, noting the freckles scattered around a flick of a scar resting on the bridge of Dream’s nose.

It begged to be caressed, kissed with gentle lips.

He passed the washcloth over the spot gently, pulling it down the curve of the taller man’s nose. George watched Dream’s eye’s flutter open momentarily, only to give the brunet a slack glance before relinquishing his sight again.

George felt dizzy. He couldn’t help himself as he used the cloth to trace the curve of Dream’s upper lip, as he watched it tug his bottom lip and linger there. Dream didn’t open his eyes this time.

“Can I kiss you?”

The words left George’s mouth so quietly even he could barely hear them. He became aware of his reach, pulling his fingers from Dream’s hair and into his own lap. The washcloth fell from the blond’s petal lips.

The moment of silence was agonizing, painful even, especially when those piercing green eyes made themselves known again.

“Yes.”

His body moved of its own volition, bringing him closer to Dream. They both leaned in wordlessy, hesitating when their faces met. A wave of euphoria threatened to knock George out. He was so close to that kissable scar.

Dream pushed first, breaking the distance between their lips. George sighed into the kiss, hand finding its way into blond locks as he pressed back.

Neither of them dared break away, Dream dragging his tongue across the seal of George’s mouth for permission to enter.

The brunet parted his flushed lips slightly, his breath catching in his throat when he felt calloused fingertips under his shirt. The tongue ran along George’s teeth and he let himself do the same.

Dream’s hands slid down George’s thighs to the crook of his knees, pulling the smaller man forward to straddle his lap. George looked down to catch his breath and reproach his wandering thoughts. He grew conscious of his hands resting on Dream’s bare chest. What the hell were they doing?

“Do you want to do that again?” The blond murmured softly, the tinge of uncertainty plaguing George’s thoughts completely absent in Dream’s warm tone.

George deflected the question with one of his own, “does your stomach hurt?”

“Not at all,” he replied earnestly.

George bit the inside of his cheek, mind a blur of nonsense. He cared about Dream, but he could have said anything in response and George’s dilemma would still remain.

“George?”

Dream broke the silence, rubbing a bit of George’s blue shirt between his thumb and pointer finger.

“We don’t have to,” he followed up gently.

“Have you wanted to do that for a while?” George muttered, fidgeting by dragging a thumb over one of Dream’s defined collarbones. He was so scared that his feelings were one-sided, only reciprocated from the heat of the moment and bound to burn out the second they parted. He had spent too long pushing down his emotions. This couldn’t be how his months of unbearable repression paid off.

“Have you?” That gentle voice pulled him out of his frenzied mind again.

George hated the way Dream deflected his question the same way he’d done to him, sucking in a slow breath.

He only gave a small nod. It felt like defeat.

George felt rough hands slide up to cup the sides of his face, gently pushing him up to look at Dream.

The blond didn’t meet his gaze, running his eyes over George’s lips. He nodded his head slightly back at the brunet. George felt his stomach flutter. Did that mean what he was hoping it did?

All of his doubts disintegrated the second Dream’s lips crashed against his. He let his mind go blank, melting against that warm, tan skin.

He felt high off the euphoria. He didn’t feel real as Dream pulled back from the deep kiss just enough to begin pressing kisses at the corners of his mouth and jaw.

George stifled a low groan under a strained sigh. Dream’s hand snaked around to the back of his head, fingers raking through his dark hair. He inhaled sharply when the hand suddenly closed into a fist, gripping his locks tightly between flexed fingers.

Dream pulled George’s hair swiftly but gently, exposing the pure, untouched porcelain skin of the brunet’s neck. He took no time in moving his advances down George’s jaw to hungrily devour that fair skin- ruin it with his touch.

George’s breathy whimper only fueled his fire.

Dream broke away to nibble at his ear teasingly, placing a wet kiss on the shell. He blew on it softly, relishing the way the cold made George’s skin prick with goosebumps.

Satisfied, Dream moved back to his pale neck. He planted his lips on it, sucking a bit of skin into his mouth, running his tongue over it.

“Dream- Dream…” George said in a pleading tone, though he had no idea what exactly he was begging for.

The blond moved away from George’s neck momentarily to view his work, a single blush red mark blooming where he had sucked. It was bound to be the first of many.

He immediately dove back in, kissing and sucking at an aggressive pace. Dream smirked into the crook of George’s neck when he felt nails dig into his shoulders. He used his free hand to hook a finger under George’s collar and tug it away to reveal a defined collarbone.

The brunet let out a quiet series of pleads as Dream ran his tongue along it. He faltered when he felt George shift backwards, moving his hips away from Dream’s lap.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, brows furrowed as he pulled away from George. He let his grip relax on his hair so George could look at him properly, but he didn’t. The brunet’s eyes had reverted to staring down, fixated on some insignificant point between them. Dream could see him struggle to regulate his ragged breathing.

“George, come on,” Dream pried, moving to grab George’s hands, which had slipped off his shoulders to fidget with the hem of his shirt.

George flinched away, “wait, Dream, no-” he protested feebly. It was too late, Dream knew.

The blond had pushed back a little harder at George’s fuss, and his hand brushed something hard through the fabric of his blue shirt.

He didn’t believe the blush on the shorter man’s face could get darker, but in that moment it absolutely did.

Dream bit back a grin. He himself was already as hard as George, but the way the brunet tried to hide it shamefully made him smug. His tight jeans hid most of it, anyway. George probably didn’t even know.

“Why are you acting so embarrassed?” Dream raised his eyebrows, looking at George as he released his hands and toyed with the bottom of his shirt instead.

The brunet held a begrudging expression, struggling to meet Dream’s pinning stare. He had to look off to the side to recover from the eye contact. His head turn exposed his abused neck, splashes of red and purple making a mess of his ivory skin. The sight gave Dream a rush; drove him crazy, knowing he did that to George.

“Because it’s _embarrassing_ ,” George mumbled.

Dream could feel the shorter man falling apart at the seams gradually. He intended to unravel him until there was nothing left.

“...Do you want help with that?” the blond questioned. He stifled a laugh when he saw the indignant look on George’s face. He felt as if he had turned into a completely different person simply by seeing George all hot and bothered.

“No,” he shot out quickly. The brunet paused, biting the inside of his cheek as he actually considered Dream’s offer.

“Not yet.”

Before Dream could make a snarky remark about his quick change of heart, George cupped the blond’s face and pressed a kiss to his scarred lips, effectively shutting him up.

Dream’s stomach flipped, letting his surprise give George a quick chance to take the lead. A moment later, his hands were snaked under the brunet’s shirt again. He pulled George’s delicate hips back so they were flush with his abdomen.

George parted his lips against Dream’s mouth, a breathy moan drifting out in response to the little bit of friction on his crotch that Dream had caused.

“You’re really struggling here, aren’t you,” the blond snickered, running a thumb over the trail of hairs leading south.

“Well you’re not making it particularly easy,” George replied through gritted teeth.

“So that’s a yes, no?” Dream raised an eyebrow.

Without any warning or time to reply, Dream pressed a full palm against George’s crotch. George doubled over. He slapped a hand over his mouth before burying his red face into the crook of Dream’s neck.

He didn’t dare open his mouth to protest, he knew it wouldn’t be words coming out.

Dream was relentless, stroking a thumb down his length. George’s free hand feebly attempted to push the blond’s touch away, met with a strong grip around his wrist. His hand was pinned down against his own thigh, and he wouldn’t dare move his other hand from his mouth. He was now at Dream’s mercy.

The blond pushed his face into George’s neck, sucking over a particular hickey that had earned him the loudest reaction earlier.

Warm tears escaped George’s tightly shut eyes. Every touch to his hard-on and kiss to his neck sent lightning through his body. He bucked his hips into Dream involuntarily.

George couldn’t handle the sensation anymore. He brought his free hand down to stop Dream again, and was met with the same result. The blond momentarily withdrew his hand from George’s clothed erection to grasp both wrists in a single large hand.

The smaller man almost whined at the loss. As soon as the contact resumed, he let out a groan into Dream’s skin.

“Go further, please…” he begged quietly.

Dream didn’t need to be told twice, tugging at George’s fly until the button came undone. He pulled the zipper down and slipped his hand into the brunet’s jeans without hesitation.

“Oh my god-” George cut himself off by clamping his teeth down on Dream’s broad shoulder. He heard the blond grunt, but he refused to relax his jaw. At least it wasn’t his bandaged shoulder.

Almost in retaliation, Dream palmed George aggressively. He could feel precum pooling into a wet spot on his boxers.

George’s nails dug into his palms, bound to leave small red crescents on his hands. At this point he didn’t want Dream to stop. He needed to chase his arousal to the end of its line. Warmth and tension began to build in the pit of his stomach. George pulled his mouth off of Dream’s skin, lines of saliva stringing from his lips as he gasped.

“Dream, Dream- I’m close, keep going,” the brunet whined, twitching when Dream stroked him just right.

If the blond’s pace now was enough to push him to the edge, he wasn’t at all ready for him to speed up. He rubbed up and down George’s length feverishly, making the brunet arch his back into the touch.

“I’m coming, Dream- right now, don’t stop-” he cried out. He could feel himself climbing to his high, bucking against the blond’s hand.

Then Dream stopped.

The color drained from his face when the grip on his dick disappeared completely.

“You were really about to come from getting touched a little through your boxers? Your _jeans_?” Dream said incredulously, smirking as he felt George’s wrists fight against his grip.

“I don’t wanna talk about it, please just go again.” The brunet didn’t have it in him to snap at Dream right now.

The taller man pretended to think about it for a second.

“Mmm, no, I don’t think I will,” he replied shortly, earning a long groan from George, “it’s about my turn now, don’t you think?”

George took his first good look at Dream’s lap, and there in fact was a rock-hard erection pressing against the seams of his jeans.

He swallowed, looking back up, “what do you-” he was cut off abruptly by the blond’s commanding tone.

“Get on the floor, on your knees.”

The brunet’s dick twitched as the words met his ears. There was something volatile about Dream’s voice when it was dripping with arousal.

George felt his hands regain their freedom. He hesitantly slid off of Dream’s lap. He stood for a moment before the shaking in his legs set in, and he willingly sunk to the floor before he could by accident.

“This is stupid. I feel dumb,” George complained. He knew exactly what was happening; but as much as he’d be willing to surrender to him, he wasn’t going to give Dream the satisfaction of an easy fight. He’d have to work for it.

Dream ignored him, shifting so he was sitting at the edge of the bed, legs slightly spread. He patted a thigh expectantly. George looked up at him with the same awaiting look, biting down on a smirk threatening to twist his lips.

“What are you waiting for? Come here,” Dream sounded a touch aggravated. George complied, feigning an unenthusiastic air. He shuffled forward on his knees, until he was situated between Dream’s thighs.

George ignored the blond’s pleading bulge, resting a cheek on one of his thighs and staring up at Dream. He had the power now. He could give and take away Dream’s high as he pleased.

“George.”

“What?”

Dream’s face creased with impatience as he studied George’s relaxed expression. He could see dried tear tracks on his flushed cheeks. George was definitely a pretty crier, and he intended on confirming his suspicions.

“God, I hate you,” the blond muttered, undoing his own zipper and pushing his boxers off his hips, along with his jeans. George straightened up, watching him smugly.

That shit-eating look of his faded away when Dream’s cock sprung free from all fabric confines. Dream always acted like he had the biggest dick in the room, but he never expected it to be _true_.

It was Dream’s turn to be smug.

“Suck it.”

George gave Dream a hesitant glance, complying slowly when he saw the completely serious expression on the taller man’s face. The brunet warily wrapped a delicate hand around the base, feeling its pulse thrum against his fingertips. Precum glistened at the tip. He licked his lips before leaning forward and pressing his tongue against it.

Dream sighed above him.

George tongued his slit, teasing the head with light kisses. The salty taste of Dream’s precum lingered on his tongue as he licked a long stripe up the underside of his cock. George blew on the trail of spit, the same way Dream had done to his ear. Satisfaction put a small smile on his face hearing the blond curse.

He decided he’d played with Dream enough, and he opened his mouth just enough to take the tip. His tongue swirled around it as he prepared himself to take more length.

George slowly began bobbing his head, tongue sliding along a vein. He heard a loud groan.

Dream watched the brunet take his dick, resisting the urge to take his orgasm into his own hands. He pushed a hand into dark hair, letting it rest there as he restrained himself.

The smaller man only pushed further, hollowing his cheeks when he reached the most he could handle. He stroked the rest of Dream’s length with his hand.

Dream couldn’t help himself, gripping down on George’s hair and pushing him further down his cock. George gagged at the sudden pressure against the back of his mouth. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He didn’t move off Dream’s dick, but continued at a much slower pace.

The blond pushed dark locks out of George’s eyes, admiring his already wrecked face.

“You look so pretty when you cry,” Dream cooed, consoling him after his little stunt. He pulled his hand from the brunet’s hair to show he wouldn’t do it again. George hummed around his dick, earning a shaky sigh from the blond.

He gave a few more slow bobs before pulling his mouth away, a thick strand of saliva connecting his lips to Dream’s tip. The brunet leaned against one of his thighs, letting his head hang as he caught his breath.

Dream was trying to be patient with George. After all, he had stopped him from coming and made him choke on his dick. But at the same time, he needed _more_. He wanted to see George sobbing.

The blond leaned forward, pulling George’s face up by the chin.

“Ready to go again?” He rubbed a tear off of a flushed cheek. George nodded slowly, straightening back up.

“Touch yourself this time.”

George’s lips were wrapped around Dream’s length again, this time with a hand on his own cock, now pulled out of his boxers. It held an angry red blush from the misuse. He synced his head bobs with his rapid strokes, chasing after that orgasm he had been deprived of.

The brunet let out a low moan, vibrating against the dick in his mouth. Dream threw his head back. He felt himself getting close, and he couldn’t bear this pace any longer.

“Tap my leg if it’s too much. But trust me, this is gonna hurt me more than it’s gonna hurt you.”

With no other explanation, he tangled both hands in George’s hair and started his facefucking at a gentle speed.

The brunet got the message quickly, removing his hand from Dream’s base and placing it against his thigh to stabilize himself for what was coming.

He focused on pleasuring himself as Dream fucked his face relentlessly, tears streaming down his cheeks. George let out a series of moans.

Dream’s tip hit the back of his throat, and he gagged. But Dream didn’t stop, and George didn’t tap out. A bulge grew in the brunet’s throat every time his cock slid in. His mouth started to grow numb from the abuse.

“Fuck, I’m close, I’m close,” Dream pushed out, thrusts becoming hard and desperate. There was no way George could tell him he was nearing the edge too.

After a few more feverish strokes, George tensed as he finally came. His throat tightened around Dream’s cock as he rode out his orgasm, warm semen spilling into his hand.

Dream let out a final groan, gritting his teeth as he thrusted with his hips and pushed George’s head with his hands. He held George at the base of his cock, nose buried in his pubic hair as he came down his throat.

A couple more messy thrusts and he released George’s head, feeling a pang of guilt as the brunet immediately began coughing. He also couldn’t ignore how beautiful he looked, semen and saliva dripping from his puffy lips, tears making those big doe eyes glassy and red.

After George’s coughing subsided into sniffling, he muttered a quiet “alright, come here,” and looped his arms under the brunet’s to hoist him onto the bed.

Dream stood up to lay George down properly, ignoring the slight tremble in his legs. He checked George’s chest for a clean washcloth, dipping it in the water bowl on the nightstand. Gingerly, he cleaned off the brunet’s spent dick, and helped him get it back into his pants.

He did the same for himself, folding the washcloth before pushing George’s sweat-drenched locks out of his face to wipe him off.

George was fast asleep before he finished.

Coming down from his high, Dream could feel the acute ache of the cut at his side. He deserved it after using George’s face like that. He gave the open sky a quick glance, remembering where they were. A wave of embarrassment rolled over him, hoping desperately that nobody had passed through during that.

The sky was painted in warm oranges and vibrant reds, signaling the dying of the daylight. Dream sighed. He should probably stay with George for the night.

Pulling the sheets out from under George, he crawled into the bed and pulled them over both of their bodies. He shifted a little to pull the smaller man closer, tucking his head into his chest.

“Love you, George,” he muttered into the brunet’s hair, closing his eyes and letting his fatigue guide him into a long rest.

\---

Morning- or rather, the afternoon- came, and Dream slowly came to. The ambient sounds of nature kissed his ears, beckoning him to open his eyes. When he did, he was greeted with an empty space next to him.

At that moment, he almost decided to just go back to sleep, but his eye caught on a note resting in George’s former spot. It blended in well against the white sheets. He grabbed it, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he read:

_Sorry for biting u. I patched it up while u were sleeping._

_P.s. maybe get hurt again soon?_

_Sincerely,_  
_Your personal nurse_

Dream’s fingers drifted up to his shoulder, which did, in fact, have a bandage on it. He smiled to himself, basking in the warm sunlight as he reread the note again. He’d definitely be finding some danger to get into, if it meant seeing George here again. Yeah, he’d like that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wasn't expecting to write another chapter so there's a bit more story to this one, it's a little short but next chapter's gonna be spicy >:]

They hadn’t spoken since whatever went down in the Community House. It wasn’t like George was actively avoiding Dream; he just preferred to sort out his feelings alone. They also led very different lives on the SMP, paths only occasionally crossing for a few moments.

Recently though, George had taken up walking through the woods and taking less-traveled paths to bring his mind an ounce of clarity. He used the journeys as a means to attack and pick apart his inner turmoil.

Almost as though he could read minds, Dream would be there every so often, just at the corner of his eye. He’d never notice George, but watching him run and climb around recklessly would turn the brunet’s thoughts to dust and thrust him back to that day. Ruin all his progress.

Even when he wasn’t around, George found himself fantasizing about the blond’s touch. It ate at him like a disease.

\---

It had been a little over a week since Dream had tarnished his milky skin with dark hickeys, and their colors were slowly bleeding away. 

The further away that day got, the less certain he felt about Dream’s actions being genuine.

George stood in the mirror, one hand tugging his collar away as the other traced the fleeting marks. Dusty light spilled through the little windows of his mushroom cottage and caressed the brunet as he sighed. He let his hands fall to his sides. Why couldn’t he bring himself to confront Dream?

A part of him hoped that ignoring the issue would protect him from any sort of rejection that was most certainly awaiting him the second he’d try to spill his feelings. But the other half craved closure- and more of Dream. 

On a whole other note, it was hard for him to grasp that the version of him from the Community House was real. If he thought too hard about it, he could feel himself shriveling up and dying from the embarrassment at how forward he had been. His conflicting thoughts fought like wolves, pulling him into the crossfire every time he gave the subject even a passing glance.

George ran a hand through his dark hair, bringing himself back to reality- and the reality was that he had an erection. He squinted, looking down to make sure the mirror wasn’t playing a trick on him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. The brunet groaned.

Just the mere thought of Dream got him hard. Was _this_ really how sexually frustrated he was?

George pressed a hand to the wall beside him, using it as a guide as he leaned his back against it and slid down to the floor. He let his thighs fall apart, the tent at his crotch uncomfortable and apparent. The brunet regarded it with a loathing glare.

He had been ignoring his erections for days, shutting his legs and waiting until they went away. They were all results of his own careless thinking, his misplaced wanting. But this one? Unprovoked. Unwelcome.

The brunet pressed the butts of his palms into his eyes, trying to shut out the throbbing problem in his pants. Depriving himself of pleasure so many times prior made it astronomically harder. George could feel his walls crumbling. 

He let his hands fall into his lap, blinking away the darkness edging his vision. A long, exasperated sigh pushed past his lips. Maybe he’d have to swallow his pride. Just this once.

George fixed his gaze on the opposite wall to pretend this wasn’t happening, wordlessly untying his sweatpants and slipping a hand under them.

His cold fingertips against his length sent a jolt up his spine, lightly brushing along it to adjust. George kept running it through his mind that this was all just to fix a problem. He found comfort in lying to himself.

He closed his eyes as he thumbed his slit, dragging the dribble of precum down to coat his dick. It wasn’t nearly enough. He resorted to spitting into the palm of his hand and bringing it down to his length. 

George gave a few hesitant strokes to spread the saliva across his skin. Swallowing, he started pumping. His lips parted, quickly snapping shut when he felt a groan rising from his throat.

He was already this far. Might as well think about Dream too.

His thoughts ran rampant as he bucked his hips against his rapid strokes. The blond materialized in his head immediately, as if his brain had been eagerly awaiting this moment. George imagined it was Dream’s large hand getting him off, as he kissed praises into his pale skin. He whimpered, leaning his head against the wall.

The brunet felt his climax building, the tension swirling in his gut and impatient to escape. As soon as his body began tensing in pleasure, he stopped. Just like Dream had. 

Hot tears rolled down his face, cock aching.

“Fuck, what have you done to me?” George muttered quietly, voice cracking slightly. 

He traced the underside of his dick with a finger, sucking in a shaky breath as he let himself wrap his hand around his length again. 

George picked up a more desperate pace, fucking into his hand with quick snaps of his hips. His mind had gone fuzzy, and he let out a breathy moan. 

His strokes sent him over the edge, unintentionally crying out for the blond. He rode out his orgasm, rubbing his cock until the oversensitivity forced him to stop. George sat there for a while, a hot panting mess.

Then the shame hit him. As much as he liked to think he was in control of himself and his situation, the cum in his boxers said otherwise. He had _moaned Dream’s_ _name,_ for god’s sake. 

He roughly swiped at the tears clinging to his warm cheeks, taking deep breaths to clear his head. 

George couldn’t keep living like this, he had to draw the line somewhere. Regardless of his extensive doubt, he was going to confront Dream and put an end to his inner turmoil. But first he had to find a new pair of pants.

\---

While George was busy having an emotional crisis, Dream opted to fill his time with being as reckless as possible. As simple as it could be to just show up at the brunet’s house, he much preferred seeing his brows knit together as he dressed wounds. It was cute, how focused he would get. 

Dream hopped over the brick wall lining the main path, passing through the Holy Land briskly.

His stomach also held a smidge of underlying guilt. He had been rough with George, in a way he’d never expected from himself. It wasn’t like the brunet didn’t like it- but that wasn’t the point. Dream’s issue laid with himself. Unlike George, he swiftly and simply resolved to apologize, and left his negative thoughts at that.

As he walked by the church, he gave a quick glance into the stained glass windows. Dream slowed down when he recognized two figures. It was Sapnap and Karl, praying. Or, at least Karl was. The blond found it peculiar to see his fiery friend in such a place; he always tended to mention that he thought religion was dumb. Guess Karl changed his mind.

Dream left the church behind, splashing through the river and traversing into less populated land.

It was nighttime before Dream had even registered the sun was setting. He had followed winding paths, climbed trees and odd structures, and now found himself sitting at the steps of Eret’s museum. George’s expert care helped his cut heal promptly, now scabbed over and unresponsive to Dream’s constant movement.

Soft torchlight painted his back in a warm orange glow, casting a shadow down the steps in front of him. Dream toyed with his axe, running a finger across the smooth handle. 

All was quiet and peaceful, save for the sound of crickets chirping- and arrows.

The first one sailed over his head and buried into the ground. Dream rose and whipped around, just in time for another arrow to be let loose. It ripped across his thigh, causing the blond to cry out. Had he still been sitting, that arrow would be lodged in his head. 

Tripping up the stone stairs, he found a skeleton drawing back its bow. He pressed himself against one of the pillars, watching the arrow whiz by before charging out. 

Dream’s axe met the mob’s skull with a dry crack, and it crumbled to the floor. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, pushing the pain in his leg out of his thoughts. It was only his incessant limping that made him glance down.

The head of the arrow had grazed him close enough to cut through fabric, straight to skin. Dark red blood seeped into his jeans. Cursing, Dream hobbled out of the museum and organized his jumbled mind. 

He needed George. 

With gritted teeth, he moved as fast as he could in the direction of George’s house. It was the middle of the night; that was the most sensible location Dream could imagine the brunet being at right now. 

He crossed the little wooden bridge out front, rapping at the door desperately.

\---

George felt himself being pulled from his sleep. He clutched his sheets tighter, his mind beginning to stir in curiosity. The banging sound refused to cease, prying George’s eyes open with an exasperated grumble. 

It took a second for him to adjust to the strange absence of light in his windows. What time was it?

He pulled the covers off his legs, pressing his soles to the cool floor before rising. He flicked on his bedside lamp, moving away from the warm comfort of his bed. A moment passed and he was at his door, dragging the bolt lock open and pulling the handle.

He was startled to find Dream standing there, frenzied and panting.

“What do you want, it’s fucking late,” George’s tone was flat. His fatigue had sapped his ability to care.

“I was sitting at the museum, and a skeleton spawned and got my leg,” the blond pushed out.

George rubbed his heavy eyes to study Dream’s leg. The nasty cut sobered him immediately, stepping aside and holding the door open. The blond entered quickly, propping his axe against a wall.

“You can sit on the bed, give me a second,” the shorter man tossed out, making his way to his chests. He held a more extensive supply of medical equipment here. It only took him a second to gather what he needed, returning to Dream.

It had been obvious to George the second he laid eyes on Dream’s leg about what needed to happen. He dumped his supplies on the sheets.

“You have to take your pants off,” he said. He had fallen into a working headspace, and coupled with his grogginess, George found it easy to set aside his messy feelings; temporarily, at least.

If Dream’s face wasn’t already flushed from the adrenaline, a deep red would have bloomed across his cheeks. But, he willingly complied, unbuttoning and hooking his thumbs under his waistband.

“Let me help so it doesn’t rub the wound,” George interjected, sticking his fingers into the frayed hole of his jeans and lifting the fabric away from Dream’s skin. He helped guide it over the cut as the blond pushed his pants off his thighs.

Dream’s jeans fell to his ankles, and George was greeted with his bloodied leg. He couldn’t help but glance over the blond’s crotch- it felt like an odd, impulsive instinct. A trickle of red threatened to ruin his sheets, and he hastily pressed a tissue against Dream’s thigh.

“Hold that there,” George instructed, hand brushing with the blond’s as he moved to grab an alcohol wipe. 

Dream knew he was in good hands as he watched the brunet work. The neck of his baggy sleep shirt slipped around as he moved, exposing his previous meeting with George. He felt his stomach flip.

“Lift,” George commanded, delicate hand snaked under the back of his knee. Dream complied quickly, shifting his weight to his other side.

The brunet wrapped the cleaned and prepped wound with confident gentleness. Once he tied the wrappings off, he scooped his supplies in his arms and took them to his chests for sorting. 

“Thank you- fuck,” Dream hissed, the numbing effect of his adrenaline already wearing off. George peered over his shoulder to catch the blond falling back onto the mattress. 

“Can’t stand?” He commented, pulling out a white bottle of painkillers. He twisted off the cap and shook two into his palm. George returned to Dream, pulling the glass of water off his nightstand and offering it along with the meds.

Dream took them thankfully, popping both white tablets into his mouth and chugging most of the water. He set the nearly empty glass back on the table, peering up at George.

“Hey, I didn’t mean for it to happen like this- but I wanted to apologize for being mean last week. I don’t really know what came over me,” he muttered shyly.

George stared at the floor in between his feet, mind racing. If he was apologizing, that meant he cared, right? That didn’t mean he cared about George in _that_ way though.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he replied shortly. The brunet lifted his hands to fold across his chest, feeling awkward with the way they hung at his sides. 

“But I am,” Dream persisted, studying George’s expression. He couldn’t pry anything from those dark eyes. 

George ignored him, swamped in his own thoughts. There was no time better than now to air his own grievances.

“I just have to know something,” he started, pausing to suck in a long breath, “was that genuine? Like- when you kissed me.”

Dream’s eyebrows furrowed. “Of course it was. What, did you think I was just messing around?”

George didn’t reply. 

“I wouldn’t kiss someone if I didn’t mean it, George,” he added, tugging on a small smile as the brunet looked up. 

“Does that mean you like me?” George asked in a small voice, unable to keep his eyes focused on Dream’s face.

“Do you like _me?_ ” 

There he went with the deflection again. He wanted to strangle Dream for flipping such a heavy question back on him. 

George inhaled, feeling his heartbeat hum against his hands. He could only muster a small nod. 

He looked up, and Dream didn’t hesitate to give him a nod back. A tsunami of dizzying euphoria rose from his stomach, making him lightheaded. 

“Could- can you stay tonight?” George tripped over his words slightly, heartbeat thrumming in his ears. Dream reached out a hand to rub the smaller man’s hip. George held his breath, sparks shooting through his body. His knees threatened to buckle underneath him.

“I’m not sure I could leave even if I wanted to,” Dream gave a small grin as he patted his injured thigh.

“Okay.” George felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “Scoot over.”

Dream leaned down to push his shoes and jeans off, gingerly moving to one side of the bed and slipping down to lay on his back. George promptly crawled next to him, pulling the sheets over their legs.

The brunet silently shifted to rest his head on Dream’s strong chest, arm draped across his stomach. The taller man’s familiar smell invaded George’s nose. He felt like he was getting high off it. 

George felt a large arm wrap around him, and a kiss press against the top of his head.

“I do like you, George,” Dream muttered from above him.

“And I you,” the brunet’s words muffled against fabric, “but let’s leave that discussion for tomorrow.”

“Fair enough.”

With that, the night became silent again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is probably the last chapter, i didn't expect to write more than one tbh. this one's a good one tho (smut) ;] hope you enjoy! and if u have any ideas for things i should write in the future, please leave some suggestions!!  
> (thx L4v4_L4mp for the inspo :] )

George was already ready for the day before Dream even had a chance at consciousness. The brunet had insisted that they visit a quiet spot for their talk, which Dream took as George’s excuse to have a picnic. He had watched the smaller man pack the basket, repeating that he had a place in mind.

And who was Dream to refuse George? 

It was a slow walk there, with the blond on a pair of crutches he had been persuaded into using. Dream attempted to poke at George’s collected manner, to get him to talk even just a little bit. But every approach he gave was met with the same reply:

“Just wait till we get there.”

\---

The sun was bright and warm, columns of light peeking through the leaves and dappling the forest floor. Birds sat hidden in lush branches, chirping lilting melodies that made the trees sound alive. The two men were sprawled out on the plush ground, observing a trickling stream that cut through the middle of the clearing.

“Open your mouth,” Dream persisted.

“No, you’re gonna make a mess,” George shot back.

The blond rolled his eyes. “We’re in the woods, George!”

The shorter man met Dream’s exasperated expression with his own stony stare.

“That’s not a good reason to waste grapes. You really act like a child sometimes.”

Dream grumbled, surrendering by lightly tossing the fruit into his own mouth. “You made me wait until after we ate, and now you’re insulting me? Cut me some slack, I think I deserve it,” he complained in between chews.

“Can we please talk about it now?”

George looked up from his hands messing with a blade of grass. “What’s there really to talk about?”

“You’re kidding. There’s so many things I want to know! Like- how long did you have feelings for me and I just never knew?” Dream’s green eyes were bright with curiosity. He looked like a puppy. 

“A really long time,” George confessed, embarrassment blooming across his cheeks, “what about you?”

“Ever since you started treating me.”

George’s coffee-colored eyes widened. “That was so long ago!” he exclaimed, flicking the blade of grass out of his hands.

“Yeah, it was,” Dream chuckled sheepishly. 

They fell into silence, but it was a comfortable kind of quiet. They were still in the company of the birds, who never ceased their conversations.

“So what are we, then?” George questioned, picking his eyes up from the stream to peer at Dream, “being in a relationship sounds weird, like- I don’t know, you know?” the words spilled out of his mouth, struggling to hit the nail on the head. The flustered brunet looked to Dream for help.

“Yeah, I do,” he nodded his head slowly, “how about this: we can leave this unlabeled, and just feel it out for a while. Then maybe if things pick up, we can worry about discussing it then instead.”

George’s shoulders relaxed with his long exhale. He nodded his agreement, grateful for how decisive Dream always seemed to be.

The shorter man wordlessly scooted across the blanket to sit cross-legged next to Dream. He drifted a hand across the blond’s lap to lace their fingers together. Warm, scarred skin welcomed his delicate touch. 

Dream gave his hand a little squeeze before lifting their woven grip to his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss to George’s pale skin. 

“Could we just agree to forget about the whole Community House thing?” the smaller man muttered, sighing when Dream started to stroke his hand with his thumb.

To be fair, Dream wasn’t proud of the way he had acted there either, but he couldn’t ignore how pretty George had looked.

“Maybe,” he mused, “it was funny seeing you all embarrassed.” George shot him a glare, causing a grin to tug at his mouth.

“At least I don’t get turned on by pain,” the brunet hurled back, watching the stream grudgingly.

Dream’s looked at George incredulously. “Where the hell did you get that from?”

“You had a giant cut on your stomach and you still- y’know, did all that stuff!” George argued, his headstrong tone dying off when he vagued the Community House.

“Yeah, because you’re hot, pain isn’t hot George,” the blond snapped, inhaling to collect his thoughts.

“I don’t get turned on by pain- get your head out of the gutter- no, it’s just kinda like being guilty by association. Or- no, Pavlov’s dog, how he fed it when he rang a bell, except instead of salivating at a sound, you trained me to get horny from being stabbed or some shit, but only because _you_ are there. Yeah, so like being guilty by association. I just always happen to be around you when I’m hurt, that’s all. Your fault. Not mine.”

George couldn’t help but find Dream’s analogy a little funny; he willingly compared himself to a dog. It also struck him how Dream got so defensive and rambly, like he was trying to convince himself more than George with his spiel. He gave up keeping a serious act, reduced to simply trying to keep the smile out of his voice as he retorted, “ _my_ fault? _You_ always come to _me_ for help!”

Dream’s face was dusted pink. He let out a huff, muttering “I hate you so much,” as he unlaced their fingers to shove George’s shoulder gently. The brunet stuck out his tongue.

Above them, the sunlight was being choked out by a dense cluster of clouds. The cool shade made George shiver, arm hairs raising. He tried to rub away his goosebumps.

“Do you want my hoodie?” Dream offered, his attitude already softened again.

“No, I think we should just start heading back. It looks like it’s gonna be cloudy for a while.”

The brunet spent a couple minutes organizing their picnic supplies so Dream didn’t have to move. When they were ready, the taller man hoisted himself up on his crutches and they made their way back home.

\---

George pushed the door open for Dream, letting it swing shut behind them. He set the picnic basket on the kitchen counter, unpacking a couple things to put them in the fridge.

A thumping sound came from behind him, and Dream was now spread out on his bed. George tucked the blanket back into the basket, turning around to lean against the counter.

“What, are you just gonna laze around my house for the rest of the day?” he teased.

Dream tucked a pillow behind his head.

“What do you expect me to do with a busted leg? Let me live,” the blond matched George’s lighthearted tone.

The smaller man shrugged. Dream was right; there wasn’t much he could do, especially with George forcing him on crutches. Well- there was _one_ thing he could do.

Dream was essentially, temporarily bedridden. George decided he’d make the most of it.

He made his way over to the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress. The brunet paused, sucking a portion of his cheek between his teeth as he thought for a moment.

“Are you tired at all right now?” he asked as he glanced down at Dream.

“No,” the blond replied slowly, “why?”

“I just thought… maybe we could have some fun, now that we’re all sorted out,” George said in a low voice, tracing a fingertip up Dream’s arm. 

The blond felt his skin prick. He wasn’t used to George being forward in any sense, and it kindled a fire in his gut. It threatened to catch and burn him up. If Dream was to be engulfed by the flames, he’d be pulling George into the thick of the smoke right along with him.

He quickly snatched George’s hand by the wrist, pulling him into a turbulent kiss. 

The brunet melted against the taller man’s lips almost instinctively, eyelashes fluttering. He slowly pulled his legs up onto the bed, slipping into a sitting position next to Dream with his legs tucked under him. His wrist was released, and he felt both of Dream’s strong hands on his hips.

The blond broke the kiss momentarily. “I forgot how small you were; you fit perfectly in my hands,” he breathed, squeezing George’s hips. 

The smaller man felt like the wind had been knocked out of him, heat ripping across his cheeks.

“You can’t say things like that,” he mumbled, pressing his hands against his hot face to hide it from Dream’s scrutiny. The difference in temperature between his fingers and cheeks was astounding.

“Why not?” the blond challenged in that gruff voice that twisted George’s stomach. He pulled the brunet’s hands from his face.

“Your voice… kind of turns me on. It’s hot- like, I feel like I might die if you continue,” George confessed, biting his lip.

Dream’s lips curled into a smirk. “Yeah, baby?”

_Baby._

George went lightheaded, giving the blond an exasperated, almost pleading expression. “Stop.”

“But it’s so easy to get you all fluster-” he was cut off by a hand covering his mouth.

“Stop.”

The brunet’s inscrutable chestnut eyes bored into Dream’s sage ones. The only thing the taller man could make out from his expression was the undeniable desire that stitched his brows together. 

Slowly, George slipped a thigh over Dream’s stomach, straddling his hips. The blond followed his every move with brimming excitement. 

George leaned down and reconnected their lips. Dream pushed his tongue past the brunet’s plush lips, exploring his mouth hungrily. He tasted like apples. 

Fingers tugged at Dream’s shirt, pushing it up his toned body. George pulled away to get it over the blond’s head. 

The shorter man didn’t resume the kiss, but rather dragged his tongue over the curves and dips of Dream’s muscled torso. Reaching one of his pecs, George swirled around a nipple and teased it with his teeth. He pinched the other between delicate fingers. 

“Fuck, George,” the blond swallowed, his semi pressing against George’s ass.

The brunet looked up at him with lidded eyes, a thin trickle of spit reaching Dream’s hard nipple from those swollen lips. Dream pulled him into another passionate kiss.

“Let me fuck you, George. Please,” he muttered huskily into the smaller man’s skin.

The words burned right through George’s mind, leaving him dizzy and making his breath tremble.

“No, no. Not with your leg like this,” he murmured. He could physically feel Dream’s dismay hang thick in the air. It only took George’s short reply to make it dissipate immediately:

“I’m gonna ride you.”

Dream’s breath hitched in his throat. “Holy shit, baby,” was all his scrambled brain could produce.

Before he could collect himself, George was already undressing. The brunet had straightened up, kneeling so Dream could see all of him. He hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down agonizingly slow.

Dream stifled a groan as George brushed his crotch while getting his pants and underwear off. The brunet hiked up his oversized shirt, revealing his hard cock. The rosy tip was already leaking precum. He ran a few fingertips along his shaft, eliciting a few soft moans for Dream.

Suddenly, he sunk down until their chests were pressed together, the brunet’s back arched as he whispered in Dream’s ear.

“Stretch me.”

George wiggled his ass. The blond’s stomach tightened, grabbing a fistful of dark hair. He pulled George’s head back just enough to press two fingers to his lips. The brunet accepted them eagerly, sucking and coating them in saliva. Satisfied, Dream slid his fingers out of George’s mouth. He pressed a loose kiss to the shorter man's cheek and snaked his slicked hand between their bodies.

Dream moved his other hand from the brunet’s hair to his hip, coaxing him forward so his fingers would be able to bottom out. 

George shifted up a bit, his face resting in the curve of the taller man’s neck. His breathing was shallow, thrilled at the idea of not being able to see what Dream was doing to him. He felt a gentle touch along his rim, and he bit down on his tongue to stifle his gasp.

Dream worked his wet fingertips around the ring of muscle a few times, slowly pushing a finger into George’s heat. His efforts had earned him nothing but stifling silence, and he stopped at the first knuckle. He could feel George tighten around his finger.

“George, I wanna hear you,” the blond pressed the words to the brunet’s ear softly. Slowly, George nodded against Dream’s neck and released his tongue. It was all the confirmation the taller man waited for before returning to his task.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he added, and he slid the rest of his finger in. Dream gave the brunet a moment to adjust before he started pumping in and out of him, drawing a weak moan from George’s lips.

The blond could feel the smaller man grinding against his hand. He got the message and lined up a second finger, pushing in at the same time that George rocked back.

“Ah-! Dream…” the brunet whimpered.

“There it is,” Dream praised him, scissoring his fingers.

The stretch hurt, but it made George feel so _good._ Then Dream thrust in a third finger. 

The brunet choked. He had only sucked on two of the blond’s fingers; this one was completely dry. George arched his back, tears welling in his scrunched up eyes. Dream had temporarily stopped pumping to give the brunet a chance to catch his breath.

When he started back up again, it was a slow, gentle pace. He felt so full. Dream fanned out his fingers, and George’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. 

The blond’s fingers were so much longer than his, and it took nothing to brush George’s prostate as he spread his fingers. Combined with his aching cock rubbing against their abdomens, the brunet knew his orgasm would come soon if they carried on.

“Wait- fuck! Dream, stop,” George’s protest was interrupted by Dream’s fingers curling inside him. Instantaneously, he felt the digits pull out and leave him empty.

“Did I do something?” Dream asked, his voice filled with concern. 

“N-no, I was just gonna come if you kept going.” He blinked out the tears pooling in his eyes.

“Oh, alright.” George felt the blond’s body relax, tracing circles on his milky ass. “Is it my turn then?”

The smaller man sat up, giving him a nod. Dream finally got to see George’s teary face, he looked like he was in shambles already. He relished those flushed cheeks, those eyelashes that held constellations of tears.

George shuffled backwards, making a point to press on Dream’s bandages as he moved back. 

The blond let out a groan that was more out of pleasure than pain. He glared at George when he saw his lips upturn in a smirk.

“Sorry, just had to test my theory. I guess I was right,” he teased as he pulled down Dream’s sweats. They were actually a pair of George’s oversized ones that he lent to him to replace his torn jeans, but they were nowhere near oversized on Dream. 

“Fuck off, your theory doesn’t mean shit,” the blond huffed. 

Dream’s grudge was short-lived; dying the second that the open air hit his throbbing dick. George was situated between the blond’s legs, running his tongue along the delicate skin of his inner thighs. He stopped every so often to suck on it, leaving gentle blush-colored marks.

“God George, you’re so good,” Dream sighed, pushing a hand through his golden locks.

George’s heart fluttered at the adoring comment. He gathered a bit of saliva in his mouth before gripping Dream’s cock and pressing his tongue to the shaft. 

The brunet worked his way up Dream’s length, drinking in every little sound the blond made. He pushed onto Dream’s head, hollowing his cheeks and bobbing on just a sliver of his cock. 

The taller man let out a groan. It was music to George’s ears. He used his other hand to fondle Dream’s balls as he took more of him into his mouth. 

The brunet’s tongue slid along that familiar vein, letting his teeth graze Dream’s cock just to see how he’d react.

The blond arched his back, pushing out, “you fucking whore,” with his eyes screwed shut.

George’s pace faltered for a second; not because he was upset, but because he was surprised that he _liked_ it.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that at all,” Dream apologized, pressing a hand over his red face. 

George couldn’t verbally reply, resorting to humming and bobbing faster to reassure the blond that he was fine. After a few more moments, the brunet was reminded of the aching in his own cock, and he began working himself further down Dream. He pulled himself off to catch his breath, preparing himself to go all the way.

Wrapping his lips back around Dream’s slick length, he began pushing himself as far as he could go. Tears pricked at his eyes again as he gagged, but there was still more of Dream he had to choke down.

George opened his throat and ignored his incessant gag reflex, deepthroating the blond until his nose touched pubic hair. He couldn’t even register the lewd moans ghosting past the taller man’s lips. 

“Pull off, stop,” Dream’s shaky voice commanded, betraying his hips fucking into George’s mouth.

The brunet lifted his head, letting the cock fall from his petal lips as he coughed and swallowed to soothe his abused throat. He’d never heard Dream this worked up, and it made his insides flutter.

He recovered much faster than last time, wiping his mouth and pulling himself up. George straddled Dream’s hips once more, feeling his cock resting in between his asscheeks.

“Ready?” The blond murmured, squeezing George’s thighs and rubbing his thumbs into his soft ivory skin. It was kind of hot how he had to just lay there and let the brunet do all the work.

He nodded, reaching behind him to grab Dream’s dick. George rose slowly with trembling legs, lining the tip up with his stretched entrance. 

He lowered himself down, hesitating as he felt the blunt head against his hole. Sucking in a breath, George pushed himself down onto Dream’s cock. Whatever the blond had done with his fingers wasn’t nearly enough to prepare him for this. The stretch was almost unbearable; he couldn’t stop himself from clenching around the taller man. Dream let out a soft moan, gripping the brunet’s hips tight enought to leave marks.

George was panting from the cock slowly filling up his ass and the strain in his legs from keeping himself up for so long. He was hyperaware of every inch sliding into him until Dream finally bottomed out, his ass flush with the blond’s pelvis. 

“You’re huge,” George breathed, hands pressed against Dream’s waist. He couldn’t help but sit up as straight as possible.

The brunet rolled his hips slightly to get used to being full.

“Wait, I wanna be able to see you baby,” Dream said in a honeyed tone. George’s large shirt fell over his waist and thighs, obscuring most of what the blond wanted to see. He took the hem and brought it to the smaller man’s mouth, who took it and bit down on it. Now Dream had a clear view of George rocking on his cock.

Slowly, the brunet felt ready to lift himself up slightly and sit back down. The movement slid the head of Dream’s cock right against George’s prostate, and he let out a muffled moan. He felt hungry for much more, and began a gentle rhythm of bouncing on Dream’s dick. 

The blond closed his eyes, the pleasure of tight walls rubbing around him going straight to his head. His mouth fell open and a broken moan tumbled out when George adjusted the way he rolled his hips. 

His strong hold on the brunet’s hips turned volatile as he used it to shove George down his shaft faster. Dream began thrusting upwards slightly, making the smaller man cry out. He felt a tear hit his stomach.

“Pleas- ah! Feels so good, don’t ever stop,” George struggled to push out, sweat sticking locks of dark hair to his forehead. Dream managed to abuse his prostate with every stroke, and he couldn’t bear to wait for his orgasm to come. He reached a hand to his painfully hard length, spreading precum across his skin as he tugged sloppily in time with Dream’s thrusts.

Dream was getting high off the way George’s hole tensed every time he pushed in fully. Heat began swirling in the pit of his stomach, and he desperately chased after his climax.

One particularly hard brush to his prostate and rapid stroking along his cock finally sent George over the edge. He doubled over as his whole body tensed, spurts of semen falling onto Dream’s stomach. A loud moan and a fresh round of tears emerged. The brunet worked himself through his orgasm, his pumping becoming messy and infrequent as overstimulation made his body jolt. George slowly came down from his high, a panting wreck, and realized Dream was fucking into him again after a short pause to let the brunet enjoy his climax. The blond was still pursuing his own orgasm, and George couldn’t stop him even if he wanted to. He had really taken the shorter man up on his last words.

Dream’s grip on the brunet had gotten impossibly tighter to the point of his hips aching, mercilessly pushing George up and down. The smaller man let his head hang and the shirt fall from his mouth, weakly moving his hips in an attempt to help. The overstimulation made his ass numb, replacing pleasure with a dull ache. He bit his lip and put up with being Dream’s cocksleeve.

The blond’s lips parted as he was thrust into his high, burying his cock fully in George’s ass as he came. White ropes of cum filled the brunet up, and Dream gave a few lousy strokes before completely relaxing. 

George had leaned forward to rest on the blond’s chest, totally fucked out. Dream took his hands off his ivory hips and pushed them under his shirt, rubbing his back. The brunet let out a shaky exhale and lifted his ass up to let Dream’s half-soft dick fall out. He felt cum leak out of his abused hole and trickle down his thighs.

“You did so well, baby,” Dream praised, kissing the top of George’s head. He received no response. 

The blond shifted his head to peek at the smaller man’s face, warm tears still spilling down his face and onto his own tan chest.

“Hey, you’re alright, you’re okay. You did so good, I’ll get you cleaned up and we can cuddle,” he continued, petting George’s hair as he rubbed circles on his back. Dream had no experience with subspace or becoming nonverbal, or if this was even an instance of that. Regardless, he’d help George through it. Finally he’d be the one taking care of the brunet, instead of the other way around.

George’s breathing slowly became deep and regular under Dream’s touch, and his tears had ceased as he fell asleep. Although the brunet had long since been conscious, he still pressed loving comments into his hair every so often. The blond had to fight the urge to sleep himself to make sure they didn’t wake up disgusting tomorrow. 

Inhaling slowly, he wrapped his strong arms around the smaller man, sitting up with a great deal of difficulty. Dream laid George down next to him gently, the redness in his pale face reduced to a couple rosy spots on his cheeks. He leaned over to plant a kiss on a dried tear track before slipping his feet off the bed. A sharp pain shot through his thigh, but he ignored it.

George would have killed him if he was conscious enough to see Dream walking around without his crutches.

It took the blond a while to navigate George’s chests and find what he needed, but he eventually succeeded. Dream set a fresh cup of water on the nightstand, dropping a few painkillers next to it. He crawled next to the brunet, using a damp rag to wipe George down after pulling his baggy shirt off. 

The blond lifted one of the shorter man’s thighs to clean his wrecked hole. His gaze softened as he watched George sleep peacefully, the dying daylight from the windows casting a soft glow across his porcelain skin.

Dream sifted through the brunet’s clothes drawers, leaning his weight on his uninjured leg as he stood. He picked out a pair of briefs that he later slipped over George’s bare legs.

After getting himself taken care of, Dream settled back into bed. He pulled the smaller man into his strong embrace, ignoring the slight pressure on his thigh. He let the rhythmic rise and fall of George’s back lull him into a drowsy calm.

“I love you, George. I love you."

It was now the second time he expressed his feelings to his sleeping lover, but he didn’t mind. He knew there’d be a point where he’d get the satisfaction of hearing it being said back.


End file.
